


In the Arms of the Ocean

by Bleve



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:57:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleve/pseuds/Bleve
Summary: On the eve of the final battle, two stubborn souls finally accept how much they mean to each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters or themes from Tales of Berseria (obviously). All belongs to Bandai Namco Entertainment, and I make zero profit.
> 
> "Never Let Me Go" by Florence + The Machine is an amazing song, and to me, it's the perfect song for this pair. If you've never heard it (where have you been?), go listen to it.

Shake and fold, his hands carried through the motions, even while his mind conjured images and thoughts, precious memorable moments that solidified for him just how much he would miss his Captain. He could still picture Van Aifread smiling as he stood in this very same spot countless times, wadding and shoving clothing into the chest without a second thought. He understood why Benwick had offered to clean out and pack Aifread’s private items, but he had declined the blonde deckhand’s help. The responsibility fell upon him as First Mate, but beyond duty, he owed this to his friend. 

It was not the first time he had been in the Captain’s quarters since his disappearance; both Benwick and he had searched the cabin when Aifread first vanished, hoping they might find a clue, but their search had turned up nothing. Eizen had left the personal effects right where he found them, hoping at the time that there would eventually be a reunion. Now, that would never be, and he had finally relented to the crew’s insistence that he occupy the Captain’s quarters. No matter the circumstances, it felt like a mutiny to inhabit the space that Aifread had owned, but at least his fellow pirates had not outright asked him to actually be Captain, though he knew that loomed on the horizon. They already followed his orders, and had been for months, so the request would be more a formality than anything else. But, he suspected they held their tongues now, simply because they all knew that the ship raced to Port Zekson to do battle with a god. They would not ask him to abandon that mission, nor would they ask him to accept another one, until they had seen this through.

He sighed, finishing the last of the clothes and placing them neatly into the chest. Pirates were a practical lot, and a dead crewman’s items were cast into lots and split amongst the other crew, or sold, and the profits shared. A captain’s things were treated no differently. Out of the corner of his eye, the whiskey decanter that he and Aifread had shared many a night called to him, and he gave in to the temptation. He hadn’t indulged since that night at the tavern in Loegres, and that seemed like decades ago. 

He walked to the inherited escritoire, pulling out the ornate chair that he had tormented Aifread over more than a few times. On a ship, space is a luxury, and even though the captain is given the largest cabin, it still could only hold a precious few pieces of furniture. The room had a decent bed, the desk—a necessity—and then an ostentatious, larger-than-life chair along with it that was far from practical. But, Aifread had enjoyed contradiction in all things, even himself and his quarters. One of the upper shelves of the desk was devoted to imbibing, and he poured himself a glass. The liquor slid along his tongue and flamed down his throat, warming him in body only, as he settled into the seat.

A wooden knock shattered the peace, and he called out, “Yes?”

The door swung open, and bandaged fingers grasped its edge as the Lord of Calamity walked into his space. Velvet’s appearance was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, as he suspected that she had been avoiding being alone with him recently. Their interactions had always been strained to some extent—what had started out as mutual use had grown into begrudging respect, and eventually, he had come to care for her as much as he allowed himself to care about anyone. Initially, he thought her a stubborn fool, and while he still thought her to be so, he also knew her to be loyal to a fault and brutally honest. There was an unspoken, uneasy kinship between them, as both understood how pain and loss feed the darkness in a being’s soul—human, daemon, and malak alike. Odd that, although he had befriended Rokurou and Laphicet, and even tolerated Magilou and admired Eleanor, it was Velvet’s company that he often sought out, especially since the confrontation with Innominat in the earthpulse. He tried to tell himself that his obsession was a strategic maneuver, but deep down, he knew better. 

She strolled across the cabin, stopping before the window and its view of the starry night, her profile lit half by candle and half by the moon. The door clicked shut behind her, and he waited patiently for her as she ground herself in the moment, not making a sound, the silence between them normal and unhurried. He had spent many quiet times with her on the deck of the ship, as she sat perched on the rail and he stood sentinel to the waves and her brooding. Both of them knew that words would come when they were ready, and not before.

She turned toward the desk, and golden irises fixed upon him, rooting him in place like a plank in the deck of the Van Eltia herself. Fierce determination shaped the facial features of the daemon before him, and he knew that whatever had brought her to him this night, it weighed heavily on the weary soul she still possessed. 

“I believe that the therions will die along with Innominat.”

A Reaper knows the signs of suffering after being exposed to them constantly, but he didn’t need his powers to hear the telltale quiver in her voice that exposed all the fear and agony that she reined in. But, this resolute female neither needed nor wanted anyone’s pity, especially his. Voice level, he locked eyes with her, “Why?”

She shrugged, nonchalance her trusty shield, “Nothing more than a gut feeling. But we’re a part of him, and if he ceases to be…”

“You and the rest of the therions will as well?” he asked, and she nodded.

“It won’t stop me though,” she countered, continuing, “Innominat, Artorius, and the Abbey...all will perish, no matter the cost.”

He nodded his head, while inside, he screamed from the top of his lungs at the ugly unfairness of it all. If anyone deserved to see the end, it was Velvet. Then, another sinister thought crept in, “What about Laphicet?”

“I hope I’m wrong for his sake. I asked Eleanor to take care of him if…”

He tried and failed to not take her choice of caretakers to heart; even a Reaper has his limits. He cut her off, grumbling, “We'll all keep an eye on the boy.”

She nodded, a small grin lifting the corner of her mouth, and he realized that she was on to him. “Easy Eizen...I meant no offense. You two share a bond, and common ground as malakhim...I didn’t need to ask if you would watch out for him…because I knew you would.”

Even her half-smile warmed him, as bitter as he was, and he wondered how dazzling a full grin from her could be—used to be—when she was just a simple girl and hunter of prickleboars. Melchior’s illusion had enabled them all to witness the beautiful and bright young woman that Velvet had been in Aball. Even after the tragedy of the Opening and the death of her sister and nephew, she had fought to make a family with Laphicet and Arthur, to claw and steal a life back from sadness and despair. The loss of another sibling at the hand of her brother-in-law was just too much for her heart to bear.

With all forgiven, she gestured towards the chest, “Finished?”

He nodded, taking another gulp of whiskey before speaking, “Aye.”

“I won’t ask you if you’re ‘okay,’ or if you’re ‘holding up.’ I know from my own experience that you don’t want to hear lipservice right now, and I don’t do sympathy.”

He nearly choked, laughing at her boldness. “No...you don’t.”

She perched herself on the edge of his desk, her legs dangling as she chuckled wryly, “Shut it, pirate. Aifread didn’t seem like the type to mope, and I expect you to follow suit.”

He shook his head, “I’m not moping...I’m reminiscing. There’s a distinct difference. I do this in memory of my friend, not to mourn his passing, but to celebrate his life.”

She gestured at the gloomy space, “This doesn’t look like a celebration to me...all I see is a malak getting drunk alone in a shrine. Shouldn’t you be doing this with the rest of the crew? They must miss him too.”

This annoying woman had a point, but damned if he would tell her so. He sighed, “It’s hard to have a wake when we’re sailing to avenge his death.”

She paused, and he saw just a hint of guilt in her eyes, “Then, I should honor his memory now, as I may not be around later...”

He watched as she turned her upper body, reaching out to the decanter, and poured herself a glass. Never had he witnessed Velvet drink anything, and in fact, she often remarked how she was too young to do so. She lifted the glass to her nose, twisting her face at the smell, “This stuff is potable?”

“Small sips, Velvet. I’d take it easy...whiskey is not for beginners.”

Before he could warn her further, she tossed her head back, the glass’ contents disappearing down her throat. She gagged, choking and barely understandable, “Good thing I still can’t really taste anything...because I’m sure by the stench and the burn that whiskey is horrible.”

He laughed, and she joined him while managing, “Will you tell me about Aifread?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything...the best way to celebrate a person’s life is to speak of it.”

Ironic words coming from her, since she rarely spoke of her losses. It surprised him that he didn’t mind the thought of commiserating with her, just that they had to do so equally. Curiosity would be the death of him. “Let’s make a trade. I will tell you of Aifread...if you’ll tell me of Celica and Laphicet.”

“It’s a deal, pirate.”

Minutes or hours passed, he wasn’t sure which, as they swapped stories, the whiskey bottle acting as a hourglass, with both himself and Velvet depleting its contents. He was about to suggest they both get some rest, when she stopped him with liquor-loosened words, “I loved my sister so much, but she and I were polar opposites. I was the rough and tumble tomboy who would hunt and train with swords, while she was the pretty, dainty girl who would pick flowers and weave them into her hair. She was a princess without a kingdom, and she found her white knight in Arthur. Seeing them together in the visions from the earthpulse, even knowing how tragically it turned out, I was still jealous. I’ve always envied what they had...I will never know love or devotion like that. I guess that is just more proof of how evil I truly am.”

“Or how human you once were. And Laphicet absolutely adores you.”

“I know,” she nodded, “But it’s not the same. What Celica and Arthur shared...”

“Everyone and everything longs to be loved, Velvet. And the love between a man and woman is a special and powerful thing.”

She leapt off the desk, her clumsy landing proof that liquor had some effect on her. She laughed, but it sounded false in his ears, and he stood, crossing the small space to help steady her. He watched her eyes fall on his hand clasped around her forearm, and when her golden irises turned to him, he was shocked to see tears flooding them. The sight stole his voice, and he whispered, “Velvet...”

“This isn’t me…” she started and stopped, shaking her head and wiping her face before taking a step back from him. She inhaled deeply before continuing, staring him down, “I’m a coward, Eizen. I came here to tell you goodbye...Port Zekson is the beginning of my end. But, I couldn’t…”

“Save the goodbye...you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he couldn’t stop the impulse that he had to reach for her, to touch her, but instead, he curled his fingers into a fist. “I’m here and will be here, for as long as it takes. We can keep talking about whatever you want, until we dock or you fall asleep from hearing me drone on…”

His words seemed to comfort her, as a tiny smirk formed on her face, and his heart, as shrunken and dark as it was, soared like a sylphjay on the sea breeze. “You do love to hear yourself talk...so humor me. Do you really think I’m beautiful, after all that you have witnessed?

So, she had heard him teasing the boy. Not long after leaving Merichio, he and Rokurou had cornered the malak to ask him about his time with Velvet. Truth be told, he had been oddly envious, and more than a little curious. He had told Laphicet that he should have seized the chance, because once he was an adult, a bath with a beautiful woman never happened. It was a casual slip, and an honest one, but one he instantly regretted, since he figured she had heard. But, why was she bringing this up now? Warning bells chimed in his head as he teased, “Eavesdropping?”

“Hardly...you and Rokurou weren’t exactly trying to be quiet. Quit deflecting...”

“Yes,” he responded, and a smile spread on his lips as her cheeks flushed.

“Why?”

“Because, even at your lowest, you didn’t quit. How many people can handle what you’ve been through, and still find the will to fight for what they believe, for what they want?”

She pushed him backwards, and he stumbled, landing in the chair. The attack caught him unawares, and before he realized, she was climbing into his lap. Suddenly, the massive chair seemed very small as her thighs slid along and between his, and her hands wound around his neck. He gasped, “Velvet…what are you… ”

Her voice had the same steel as the sword she wielded, “Fighting for what I want. If I am to die, I want to do so knowing a lover’s touch.”

He tried one last desperate attempt to save them both, “You’re drunk and too young to understand...“

Her lips collided into his, and he surrendered. His hands found her hips, and they snaked their way around her body, pulling her against him. She broke the kiss, breathless, “I’m well within my right mind, Eizen, and I’ve lived through enough pain to age a hundred lifetimes. Don’t make excuses. If you don’t want me...”

He put his index finger over her mouth, and she stilled while he spoke, “No more excuses, daemon. I plot my own course, and I’ve wanted this for far too long. But, I had to give you the chance to run.”

Her soft lips moved, and he could feel the contact through his glove, “I don’t run.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still relatively tame, but the next one...not so much. So, you've been pre-warned.
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters or themes from Tales of Berseria (obviously). All belongs to Bandai Namco Entertainment, and I make zero profit.

Icy aqua irises, surrounded by long, chestnut lashes that rarely moved, his gaze was always unflinching, steady, and constant, and she straightened just a little, though it was difficult to do so perched in his lap. Infuriating, she thought, that he could seem so intimidating even when they were so intimately entangled, and yet, that dominating presence was what also drew her to him.

He smiled, "You can't claim I didn't warn you…"

His hands ghosted across her chest, and she watched as his fingers undid the clasp of her cloak. Goosebumps rose on her shoulders as the material slid down her back, and the hiss that escaped him made her pulse race, made her long for things that she barely understood and hardly knew. For just a second, she saw hesitation in his eyes as he spoke, "I've avoided this for a very long time. My curse…"

She ran her hand along his sternum, resting it against his heart, if malakhim had one, "I don't care about that, Reaper. Bad luck is all that I have anyway."

"So rebellious...and yet you won't touch me with your bandaged hand."

Eizen missed nothing, and his pinpoint accuracy when it came to her choices irritated her to no end. "Do you have a death wish? I already know that I can eat your kind. It would be like dangling a steak in front of a lion."

"It's all or nothing, daemon. You look me in the eye and say that you don't care about my curse. You want me to accept the risk you're taking, and I want you to do the same. I don't care about your hand. Touch me."

He was ever the First Mate, barking orders and expecting obedience, and she begrudgingly lifted her wrapped fingertips to touch his face. He slowly covered them with his hand, stopping the subtle tremble she was trying to hide. She growled, "There! You crazy…"

He kissed her this time, tongues and teeth clashing as he hovered over her, and she gasped as he stood, lifting her off his legs and the chair as if she were a feather. He set her on her feet, leading her with his lips in a lover's dance across the cabin, and she wasn't sure if it was the whiskey or Eizen, but she felt light in a way that she had never known possible. When they stopped moving, he abandoned her mouth, his tongue ghosting along her carotid and down to her shoulder, "You must be going soft...not even a nibble..."

"Don't tempt me, Eizen."

He pulled away slightly, smirking as he peeled off his gloves with exaggerated movements, and he seemed very pleased with himself as he lifted an eyebrow at her while tossing them onto the floor. "Will you remove the bandage?"

There was no stopping to consider the request. Clearly, he wasn't done prodding, but she was done speaking of it, "No."

He did not bother trying to hide his disappointment, sighing and shaking his head as he sank slowly down in front of her with all the poise of a panther on the prowl, and it dawned on her that she was the prey. Something about him crouched before her both excited and frightened her, and she had to fight the urge to bolt as his fingers ran along the outside of her thighs. He removed her belt, binding chains, and greave with the deftness of a pickpocket, and then he hooked her stockings, sliding them slowly down over her calves. He lifted each knee, pulling her boots and stockings free, first the right and then the left. The cool air on her bare legs was a relief to her flushed and feverish skin, and when he looked up at her, the sweet longing in his eyes undid her completely. She was lost...how could a bruiser, a no-holds-barred brawler like Eizen gaze at her with such tenderness? She had no idea, but she was going to revel in the sensations for as long as they lasted. Instinctively, she reached for him, fingers resting against his cheekbone as she murmured, "Not fair, pirate. Less clothes for you, too."

He laughed as she pulled him to his feet, and she scurried around him before he could gain his bearings. His shoulders were broad and beautiful, and she enjoyed a nice view of them while she grasped the collar of his jacket, lifting it off of him as he relaxed, moving his arms behind his back to help her. She spun back in front of him, sliding into his way-too-large overcoat. It wrapped around her waist almost twice, and she stared at the sleeves, trying to roll the cuffs back from her hands, "How do you even fight in this thing?"

When he ignored her question, she looked up at him and he groaned, "I've never been so conflicted in my life. I thought I wanted you naked but seeing you in my coat..."

She smirked, and reached for the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, exposing the orange undershirt he wore even further. She pushed them off his shoulders and returned for her easily spotted target. She lifted the hem, rolling it up to expose his abdominals, and then even further, dragging her fingers along his chest. He lifted his arms, the fabric disappearing over his head, and she tossed it aside. She took a step back, admiring the muscular view, "I definitely want you naked. I've often wondered what you hid under that slip of orange fabric I could see..."

A grin spread across his face at her words, "You're so right...naked is better."

He lifted the collar of his coat, sliding his hands underneath to lift it away, and she moved her arms back, shrugging it off as it dropped to the floor behind her. He reached over her shoulder, and she watched him out of her periphery, confused by his movements. He pulled her messy braid to the front, sliding it between his hands until he found the binding at the end. He undid the string, unraveling the plaits with his fingers as she watched him in silence, her raven locks springing free and falling around her shoulders and behind her back.

"I've always wanted to set your hair free..."

She scoffed, "It's a wild mess, and you'll regret that decision later when it's in the way…"

He chuckled as his hands sought the bindings of her corset. She felt the release in the strings as the fabric gave way, and moaned as his fingers stroked across her breasts. His mouth followed behind, and her knees went weak as his arms encircled her, pulling her against him for support. She arched her spine, giving him more of her flesh, her hands grasping his blonde strands and holding on for dear life. Her head went back, her eyes finding the ceiling as stars danced in her vision.

He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, as he maneuvered them backwards onto the bed. As her body hit the mattress, his mouth moved up her neck, and his hand cupped the crown of her head, returning her to his mouth for another bruising kiss. He had barely touched her, and already she felt as if she would burn forever, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes. But, her aggravating lover looked hardly affected, and it was too much for her to hold her tongue, "You've done this before…"

"Is that a question or a compliment?"

She would wipe that smug grin off his face, "Neither. A statement of fact."

"I've lived many years, and I'm hardly innocent."

The affirmation bothered her more than it should, and she growled as she shoved him, "Of that I have no doubt."

He cocked his head to the side, unspoken questions written on the features of his face. "Really, you should have assumed as much…"

"I did. I just don't like being at a disadvantage."

He loomed over her, leaning on his elbows, "What are you talking about?"

She felt the blood rush into her cheeks, and she tried to keep her voice level and matter-of-fact, "Your experience means that this is routine. I have no idea what to do or how to..."

He grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand down to the front of his pants, and she gasped at the hardness of the contact. His voice was a hoarse whisper, "There's nothing routine about you, Velvet. Make no mistake, I want this. Sex is a lot like fighting. There are nerves facing your first opponent, and you get better at it with practice. I happen to have a few battles under my belt, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy sparring with a novice."

The comparison brought a smile to her face, despite her shortcomings, "You're such a romantic…"

He smiled at her, "Not at all. But, I do plan to show you that there is more to this world than the suffering you have lived through and witnessed. I'm going to give you a reason to survive all of this."

His confessed ulterior motive both shattered and strengthened her, daring her to ask the question that had been in her head, one that she had tried to ignore, "Do you long to be loved, Eizen?"

She could sense the change in the air as he lifted her chin, bringing those remarkable irises in line with hers. "Of course, but, we rarely get what we want in life. Love isn't fated for beings like us, Velvet. We're users and takers, and there is no future in those kind of relationships...no chance of a quiet life filled with marriage and children. Death is always lurking mere moments away. Do you think that we can fight an Empyrean, and then settle into the life of a farmer, or a merchant?"

Ever practical, his answer was honest and so very right, and still it broke her heart. He was giving her the cold, brutal truth, and all she wanted were the lies, the falsehoods told to entice a girl into temptation. Yet, she was no longer human, and she had thought she knew exactly what she was getting into by sleeping with the cursed pirate. In that very moment, she came to the realization that she was woefully, head-over-heels in love and, almost simultaneously, that all she would have with him was tonight. She reached for the end of the bandage at the top of her bicep, slowly unraveling and revealing the daemonflesh below. Her arm only enlarged when she fed, and while she was hungry right now, it wasn't for daemons. She tossed the wrapping across the room as she spoke, "Do you trust me?"

His eyes scanned the length of her arm from the shoulder where the deformity began, down her bicep to her elbow, and further to her forearm, wrist, and fingers. "Always..."

The swirls of crimson and black formed a pattern, one that all daemons bore on some portion of their bodies. Hesitantly, she touched the buckle of his belt, undoing it with her clawed fingers, and then she unfastened the button of his trousers. She shimmied them down his hips and he helped her along by removing his boots and then his pants. When he turned back towards her, she could see every naked inch of the malak between her legs and she sighed, "Then love me, and all of me..."

She felt his hands on her waist, tugging at the shorts she wore, her last defense against the dark angel before her. She lifted her body—unspoken permission—as he pulled the fabric down her thighs and calves. They were both exposed, candlelight dancing upon their flesh, and she clung to him as he did to her. He brought her hands to his lips, brushing gentle kisses along the knuckles of both, and she took a deep breath as he moved across the tips of her claws. "I'm not afraid of any part of you, Velvet, even the unpleasant ones…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** \- So, when I was in the planning stages of this story, I had an entirely different vision for this final chapter. But, when it came time to actually write, the words had a mind of their own, and I gave up trying to force them into my silly preconceived idea. I will say that I like this more than I did my original plan, and I can only hope that you all will like it as much.
> 
> **Disclaimer** \- I do not own any of the characters or themes from Tales of Berseria (obviously). All belongs to Bandai Namco Entertainment, and I make zero profit.

The campfire burned, its flames casting an eerie light, as the shadowy silhouettes of those who celebrated victory and yet mourned the loss of Velvet Crowe danced upon the stones of the Empyrean’s Throne. He was not a dreamer nor an idealist, but he still found this setting surreal, to think that mere hours ago they had finally put an end to Artorius and the Abbey’s plans to control and suppress humanity. Yet, the sun still set, night still fell, and the world would always move on, even from these life-altering, monumental moments.

The Lord of Calamity had once told him that the best way to honor a life lost was to speak of it, and so he had suggested they hold a requiem of sorts—sharing moments while reflecting upon their time with all of those they had lost. Eleanor had led them in a simple prayer for all the fallen; death was part of the Reaper’s curse, but even he still recognized that they had lost many remarkable people along the way. Then, each one of the them in turn began to recount their own memories: Laphicet spoke of Teresa and Oscar, Eleanor told a story about training with Artorius, Rokurou recalled a childhood sparring match with Shigure—even Magilou relived an artes lesson she received from Melchior.

“Your turn, Eizen…” Magilou’s voice interrupted his thoughts—he hadn’t realized she finished her story. She added, “Quit brooding and share.”

He rolled his eyes at the witch’s tease, and began to tell the tale of how he and Velvet had caught Eleanor in the Brigid Ravine outside the Yvolg Ruins, communicating with Artorius and accepting her secret mission. There were other, much more precious moments he had with Velvet, but those were his and never to be shared. The former exorcist blushed crimson, her voice melancholy, “I was so naive and eager to please Artorius…”

He shook his head, “We all have learned lessons about ourselves during this journey. If you take the teachings to heart, then it was worth the schooling.”

The group went silent for a moment, and then Laphicet spoke, “I want to go again.” 

The newly-formed Empyrean began reminiscing about the trip into the Earthpulse, when the Earthen Historia had shown them all snippets of Arthur and Celica’s lives together, their child, and the terrible loss. The tale continued, and he shivered involuntarily as Laphicet spoke, remembering the terror he felt at seeing Velvet at her most fragile. That bone-deep fear had sat bitter on his tongue as he had summoned all that he had to anchor Phi into place to avoid Innominat’s trap. With his own earth magic digging into his flesh, he had ordered the boy to finally tell the stubborn fool what she needed to hear. Afterward, he had realized he was a hypocrite, as he knew full well that he needed to heed his own advice. It had taken him longer to gather the courage, but he had eventually done the same, the night she came to him in his cabin.

Phi’s sad voice reached him even deep in his thoughts, “I think that was when Velvet finally joined us on our quest...the real Velvet, not the shell that Artorius took from Aball.”

His ears caught the quick hitch, saw the tears that the former malak held in check, and Velvet’s words to him on the Van Eltia came back to him, his oath to keep the boy safe. But, there was nothing he could do to protect his friend from the pain and loss. The witch yawned, stretching, groaning, and failing to hide her bloodshot, watery eyes, “I think it’s time for my beauty sleep.”

Eleanor nodded, looking solemn, “Yes, I think it’s time for bed. Are you okay, Laphicet?”

The bluish spectre that took the previous form of the boy malak nodded, but it was no more than a projection for their benefit, as Empyreans didn’t need flesh to survive. The women stood, saying their farewells as they walked toward the temple and the bedrolls that awaited them. Once they were out of earshot, Rokurou spoke, “This will be easier to enjoy with the girls asleep…”

He wasn’t exactly sure how the daemon managed to conjure the tokkuri out of thin air, but if Magilou ever saw him perform the trick, she’d make him do it as part of her stage show. Within seconds, liquor was poured with deft fingers into two sakazuki, one of which was placed before him. The Rangetsu swordsman winked at the apparition, tilting his head in the direction of the cups, “You’ll keep this between us, right Laphicet?”

The smile was the same, even in a transparent medium, “Sure...but I’m not sure it’s much of a secret.”

He laughed, a deep belly rumble, the first since they had been returned to the surface after the battle within Innominat’s Domain, barely managing to choke down the sake. After, they sat in companionable silence, as only men who had shared a story could. Rokurou poured more while joking, “I’d offer you some, Laphicet, because at this point, you’ve been through things that should have aged you a thousand years.” 

The daemon paused, contemplating as he stroked his chin with his fingers, “But, on second thought, I doubt that alcohol has any effect on dragons.”

Rokurou raised the sakazuki to the sky, “To Velvet...may she find a good fight in the afterlife.”

He downed the vessel’s contents again, the clearish liquid producing a sweet burn down his throat. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and a spontaneous thought became words, “She would never touch this stuff, if she thought that whiskey tasted terrible…”

Too late, he realized his folly. The carelessly stupid admission ricocheted around the three of them, and his grimace was mirrored by confusion on the boy’s spectral face and amusement on the daemon’s marked profile. Laphicet was and had always been the bravest amongst them, daring to speak first, “Velvet never drank, Eizen. She once told me that alcohol made people into fools…and all I had to do was look at you and Rokurou to see that… ”

The former malak still looked lost, but the pain-in-the-ass yaksha had caught on, and that meant trouble. He grinned, his black hair shaking as he chuckled in mirth, “So, when exactly did you and Velvet drink whiskey?”

He groaned and tried to lie like any cornered man would, “Never. I misspoke. I’ve had too much sake and not enough sleep.”

Rokurou narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “Sounded right to me...”

He didn't feel up to being doubted, and the recent raw loss and liquor weakened his temper. He growled, defenses raised, “Believe whatever you like. I'm going to bed.”

He stood, walking away from the fire and his friends toward his bedroll, but he couldn't leave the flames that had lodged in his chest. It took all of three seconds for his fellow hothead to catch him, but he only needed two to remove the bracelet around his arm. He allowed Rokurou to spin him around as he spoke, “What is your problem, Eizen? Laphicet can cover his ears while you give me the details...”

The taunt was too much and he let go, his fist flying towards the daemon’s chin. He pulled the punch a little—after all, he just wanted to shut him up, not break his jaw. The collision of his knuckles against Rokurou’s mandible felt satisfying, but he knew full well that this reprieve from his frustration was fleeting at best. For a split second, the surprise swing definitely caught the yaksha off guard, but he was quick to counterattack, charging and slamming him into the ground. Air fled his lungs as they grappled on the ground, and he heard his opponent’s grumble, “You’re awful defensive over a simple slip of the tongue...”

A silver hue glimmered around them, freezing them in place, and the accompanying sigh seemed to emanate from every metallic particle, “If the two of you want to fight like spoiled children, then find somewhere else other than my home to do it in.”

The disappointment in Laphicet’s voice was like a cold rain on his temper, and he slumped in defeat. He looked at the mismatched eyes of his comrade turned temporary adversary, and took a conciliatory tone, “Phi has the right of it.”

The yaksha stared daggers at him as he nodded, “For now, he does—but, this isn’t over. I'll find you along the Danann Highway.”

He nodded, and he knew that the fight to come would be a challenge. Rokurou had pride in his abilities, and while he was fairly sure he wouldn’t outright kill him, he did suspect that the swordsman would gladly beat him within an inch of his Reaper-fated life. The daemon stood, stalking away from the camp with anger and tension radiating from his body. 

For a moment he thought he would be able to flee without further confrontation, but then he heard, “You had me fooled there for a minute or two. But then, you went after Rokurou and I knew he had guessed true.”

There was no point in trying to deny it any longer, and he sighed, all the anger and fight draining out of him. He refuted nothing as Laphicet continued on, putting together the pieces, “Unlike Rokurou, I know that she went to your cabin the night before landing at Port Zekson. She told me she had to discuss the upcoming battle with you, but there was more, wasn’t there?”

_Long, muscular limbs intertwined amongst his legs as he held her against him, her back against his chest as his arms encircled her, keeping her close. They were both spent, enjoying pleasurable aftershocks, but there was no way he was done with her yet._

_She whispered to him as she nuzzled her head under his chin, “Niko and I used to girl-talk about boyfriends, and she used to tell me incredible, beautifully exciting things...things I could never believe actually happened between a man and a woman...”_

_He laughed, pulling her hips closer, and he could feel her plump bottom against him. “I will show you just how real those wondrous things are, Velvet.”_

_She turned her head, pressing her cheek against his neck, her profile masked by shadows in the dimly lit cabin. Her hands grasped at his as they rested around her waist, her voice tiny, wary, afraid, “Tonight, Eizen. You must show me tonight...it’s all we will have.”_

_He swallowed, the reminder a painful one, and he reached for her shoulder, spinning her within the cage of his arms. He lifted her leg, hooking it over his hip, and she gasped as their flesh connected. He growled, “Then neither one of us will be getting much sleep…”_

“Eizen?”

The Empyrean’s question brought him back, and he nodded, pain filling his voice, “We did talk about Innominat, but as you say, there was more.”

His friend smirked just a little, and then his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Did you know what she intended to do?”

The denial was instantaneous, “No. She did tell me that she suspected you were a part of Innominat, and that you would share his death. But, I had no idea she planned to keep him alive by feeding him for eternity.”

“And what about the whiskey?” he asked, almost timidly.

“Do the details matter that much?”

Laphicet smiled, a knowing, sneaky grin, “They might explain why you’ve lingered, as opposed to leaving for the Van Eltia right away.”

He offered the truth behind his hesitation to leave, “Velvet should be mourned here, where it ended, and with those who shared in her journey.”

_Soft skin and warm flesh under his fingers, as he kissed her for the seeming hundredth time, a slow methodical dance of lips and tongues, and when it broke, he sighed against her temple, “I wish I could give you more than these next few hours.”_

_“I’m not sure I could survive any more,” she pleaded as she laid atop him, collapsed across his chest._

_“Me neither.”_

_They laughed together, settling into a comfortable silence that Velvet eventually broke, “Thank you, Eizen. It’s not enough to say the words, but I don’t know how else to tell you how much it means…”_

_The acknowledgment was too much and too little, and the anger, the bitterness, the unfairness of it all crept into his words, “Don’t thank me for this, Velvet. I don’t want gratitude.”_

_She lifted her head, stopping once they were nose to nose, “No...you deserve something more…but I cannot give you what you’ve earned...I can’t...”_

_He kissed her, swallowing the rest of the words that he could not bear to hear. He tasted salt, her tears as he held her while she fell apart, and he tried to hold himself together. He whispered against her ear, “I know, Velvet. You know that I feel the same. Saying the words doesn’t make love any more real...or any less painful.”_

_“Tomorrow…” she started._

_This daemon, who showed strength and conviction beyond anything he had ever known, belonged to him, and he would claim her, “Tomorrow, I fight with you. I will be with you until the end, Velvet. No matter what that is…”_

He shook off the memory, his voice full of gravel and sorrow, “And I made her a promise, Laphicet, that I would stay with her until it was over. I cannot and will not break it.” 

His ward turned dragon stared at him, with irises that danced in realization of something new, something unexpected, “You loved her...”

He stopped, a hairline crack forming in his facade that he was afraid would splinter and fester until all his emotions exploded forth like a geyser bursting from the ground. “I still love her, Laphicet. I thought she would die in that battle, and so did she. It’s harder to accept that she’s alive but burdened with a task that she’s taken on for eternity. There is no end for her, and now, no chance for us to meet in the hereafter.”

Maotelus shook his head, “You’re wrong, Eizen. As an Empyrean, I can sense the essence of others’ lives so much more clearly now than I did as a malak. Her body is here, but Velvet is long gone.”

Something broke deep in his soul, the truth of the words hitting home, and tears of relief rolled down his cheeks. He feel to his knees, and this time, the silver light that surrounded him felt like two tiny hands and arms wrapping him in an embrace. 

Quiet moments interminable passed, and the boy broke the silence, “Now will you return to the ship?”

When he didn’t answer, Phi pushed further, “She would want you to sail free upon the Van Eltia, and carry with you the memories we all share. She would never want you to chain yourself here.”

Standing, he nodded, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to leave. “I know, but she asked me to keep an eye on you, too.”

The dragon snorted, “Of course she did. But, I doubt she knew that I would become an Empyrean, and I hardly need a babysitter. Besides, you will always be welcome here to check on me.”

He sighed, wary of losing the argument and tired beyond his years, “Then, I need some sleep, so I can head to Port Zekson on the morrow. Rokurou will want his due, so I need to be rested.”

A snort of laughter and a wink, “Maybe if you told him...”

He turned, headed towards the bedroll that waited for him on the other side of the shrine. “Never. You two gossips will get nothing more from me. Good night, Phi.” 

He had taken a few steps, when the plea came, “Eizen?”

He turned, and a beautiful red apple hovered in the air in front of him. He raised his hand, opening his fingers, and it landed in his palm. “Live, Eizen. It’s what she wanted for all of us. And some day, when your time comes...”

A smile spread across his face, “She’ll be waiting for me.”


End file.
